Like a Glove
by Licy4
Summary: Charlotte is an expert at keeping other people's secrets. But she's even better at keeping her own. What happens when she's forced to confess all?
1. Beginning of the Night

Title: Like a Glove

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Through Princess Diaries 1 and 2

Disclaimer: Obviously, the characters are not mine. They belong to Disney.

Summary: Charlotte is an expert at keeping other people's secrets. But she's even better at keeping her own. What happens when she's forced to confess all?

**O>**

Flowers. Champagne. Nibbles. Flowers. Champagne. Nibbles. Flowers. Champagne. Nibbles.

Charlotte ran through her checklist as she made a final inspection of the ballroom. In just twenty short minutes the first guests would arrive and half an hour after that, the queen would make her big entrance. That would be the most stressful moment of the evening, but also the most satisfying.

Ball's were Charlotte's favourite part of her job. The extravagant events took weeks to plan, but due to her impeccable organisational skills, they almost always went off without a hitch. And once the queen had entered, she was free to enjoy the spectacle. Never one to become immersed in the parties, she was happiest standing on the sidelines watching the people.

She felt the silky material of her latest ball gown under her fingers. This one was one of her particular favourites. She had bought it last week after seeing it in a shop several weeks previously. Initially put off by the cost, she had reconsidered after the queen announced she would be holding an event for the first wedding anniversary of her grandmother's wedding.

Queen Clarisse and Joseph's wedding had been the happiest day of Charlotte's professional life, so she had put extra special effort into the planning of this evening, with the intention of making it the best party anyone in Genovia had seen in years.

**O>**

"Rupert, we're due in the ballroom in two minutes. Are you ready yet?"

"Yes dear!"

Rupert Renaldi closed his book and straightened his jacket. He had been ready for almost an hour, of course, and had simply been waiting for his wife to announce that she too was ready.

"Come on then, let's go," she hurried, entering their living area.

"Yes dear."

Rupert held out his arm to his wife, who smiled, finally relaxing, and took it. The couple headed towards the party, laughing lightly. The event was unusual, as it was to commemorate their youngest son's birthday. Celebrations of birthdays were usually private family affairs, but this year they had decided to throw a lavish ball. The last few years had been turbulent for the family, and Philippe was only just beginning to return to his normal cheerful nature after leaving his wife and child behind in America. His daughter would now be four years old and he thought about her all the time, but he had made his decision and he would stand by it.

When they reached the foyer area, their sons were already there, waiting for them. Pierre and Philippe Renaldi, the young princes of Genovia, sat together on a convenient sofa, talking animatedly about Philippe's latest car, until they noticed their parents approach.

"Well mother," Philippe began, standing and straightening his clothes, "Will we do?" He spun round slowly so his mother could fully appreciate his attire, throwing his arms out for added effect. However, as he did so, his left arm connected with a moving object.

Charlotte found herself suddenly sitting in the lap of the Crown Prince of Genovia, propelled there by his little brother. The man had wrapped his arms round her waist out of instinct to prevent her falling off of his lap and injuring herself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, your majesty," she apologised, her cheeks reddening, as she desperately tried to disentangle herself from him.

King Rupert did his best to hide his laugh as he watched his shy son fumble clumsily to help the young woman in his arms to her feet. Eventually they managed it, both standing facing each other, equally blushing.

Clarisse stepped forward to ease the awkwardness, "Pierre, this is Charlotte. She's our new aide. I don't believe you've met before."

"No, I don't believe we have," he replied, bowing slightly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse my little brother. I hope you are not hurt."

She curtsied and smiled, "Not at all. As you can see, I am still in one piece."

"That's very good news," he smiled, maintaining their eye contact.

"Come on Pierre," Philippe called, "We're late for my party." Pierre turned back to Charlotte just in time to see her finish curtsying and hurry away.


	2. Time Off

Note: Two reviews already! Thank you so much guys. Aserene, thanks for the tip, but the time changes are intentionally confusing. Hopefully it will become more obvious what I tried to do as the story goes on. However, if it continues to not work, please let me know. Thanks again!

**O>**

"You are looking lovely tonight, my dear," Joseph said, coming up behind her.

She spun round, suddenly realising that she had been lost in thought in the middle of the ballroom, "Oh, thank you, Joseph. I was miles away."

"Yes, I noticed. Something on your mind?" he asked.

"No, I was just going over the final details," she explained, looking back to the clipboard in her hands.

"And is everything in order?"

She scanned the paper, "Yes, I think everything is ready."

"Good," he said, guiding her towards the door and removing the clipboard from her hands, "Now I want you to go to Mia and borrow something ridiculously expensive and sparkly to go with that dress. Tonight, you are a guest."

"But Joseph, the guests…"

"Charlotte, it is a party," he cut in, "The guests know what to do. Go to Mia. She is expecting you."

**O>**

"You wanted to see me, your majesty?"

"Ah, yes, thank you for coming. Sit down." Charlotte sat down nervously in front of the queen. She had been working at the palace for over five years now and had never before been called in for a meeting with the queen. Obviously, they were together much of the time now that Charlotte was her personal aide, but never in such a formal manner.

"Charlotte, I need to ask you to do something for me, but it is quite an unusual request and you are at liberty to refuse," Clarisse began from behind her large desk, "Pierre is going to be attending his first diplomatic dinner alone in Paris next week. Since he had now left the military, he is beginning to take up some of the royal duties."

"Yes, your majesty, I have already made travel arrangements for him, as per your requests."

"Oh, I know. That's why I'm asking you this and not anyone else. I know I can trust you. Charlotte, I would like you to accompany Pierre. He has never experienced the real Paris. It is one of my favourite places in the world and I know from our many conversations that it is one of yours too. You two are near enough the same age and I would like you to show him the city. I believe he is safe there without security. Nobody will recognise him. I feel it would benefit him to just relax for a couple of days," Clarisse leaned forward on the desk, "Would you like some time to think it over?"


	3. Time Travel

"Wow," Mia gasped, spotting Charlotte enter into the view of the mirror, "That dress is amazing. Wanna trade?"

Charlotte laughed, "That dress was made for you, your majesty. I doubt I'd even fit into it."

"Now, see, we've talked about this before. Firstly, stop putting yourself down and, secondly, please call me Mia. You're practically family," Mia grinned, continuing before the other woman could get a word in, "So Joe has told me to kit you out in jewels. Come and choose some."

"Actually, I have some that I'd like to wear," she told Mia, holding up a small velvet jewellery box, "They were a present a long time ago, but I haven't worn them since the day I got them. They never seemed appropriate for work, but Joseph has forbidden me from working tonight, so I thought I'd dust them off."

"Cool. Can I see?" The women sat down at Mia's coffee table and Charlotte carefully prised the lid off of the box, before setting it down on the surface for Mia's approval.

"What do you think?" Charlotte asked after a while, when Mia hadn't said anything.

Mia's mouth opened and closed a few times, "I think I've never seen anything so beautiful. These must be the most stunning pieces of jewellery in the world. Where did you say you got them?"

"They were a present."

"They must have been from someone pretty special. A necklace, a bracelet, ooh, and a ring!"

Charlotte's eyes widened at the last word, "I forgot the ring was in there too."

"Are you going to wear the whole set? It would look amazing."

"The ring is not appropriate."

"Why not?" Mia asked, inspecting the bracelet.

"Because it was intended to be an engagement ring."

**O>**

"So you're going to show me the 'real Paris', as my mother calls it?" Pierre asked as they sat in the back seat of the car taking them towards their hotel. Charlotte had rushed onto the Genovia One aeroplane at the last minute, underestimating the amount of time it would take her to pack, and Pierre had already been fast asleep in his seat. The early morning flight time had meant that she too was soon dozing in her own chair, so the car was their first opportunity to speak.

"That's the plan."

"Do you know the city well?" he asked, with one eye on the scenery that was whizzing past.

"I used to go all the time with my dad. He was a poet and he had lots of friends there."

"What about your mother? Didn't she ever go?"

She looked up at him, hesitantly, "She died when I was a baby."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise," he flustered, his full attention now on her.

"No, it's fine. How could you possibly know?" she reassured him, pasting her usual smile back on her face, "Anyway, I haven't been in years." Pierre toyed with the idea of asking why not, but decided that the back seat of a limo was not the time to find out that she had been orphaned at the age of twelve or her father had abandoned her.

"So it will be somewhat new to both of us?" he asked, sticking to a safer subject.

"Yes, it will," she agreed, while noticing that they had reached their destination, "We're here, your majesty."

"Charlotte," he called, taking hold of her hand to stop her getting out of the car, "How can I relax if you call me 'your majesty'? My name is Pierre, please use it."


	4. Shadow and Sparkle

**Note: Thanks for the reviews. Just so you know, the story is finished (it has been for a couple of days actually), so the parts will go up in pretty quick succession. The only reason I am staggering them a bit is in case people think something doesn't work in one part. It means I canchange it without having to repost the whole story. If that makes any sense? Anyway, should all be up by tomorrow night whatever happens. **

Nobody announced Charlotte as she entered the Grand Ballroom. Nor did everyone turn to look. And that was precisely how she liked it. Melting into the background was her job and she prided herself on the fact that she was good at it. A nervous hand left the silky soft material of her dress and went to her neck, feeling the exquisite necklace that sat there, then to her opposite wrist, to the equally exquisite bracelet. Tonight was the first night in a long time when she felt beautiful. She supposed it had more to do with the jewellery and the new dress than anything else, they would make anyone feel lovely, but there was also something about being a guest that gave her extra confidence. Mia had told her that they were practically family now. Charlotte had let it pass unnoticed at the time, but her mind kept replaying the words and they always brought a smile to her lips.

"Thought you could sneak in the staff entrance and nobody would see?"

She spun round and came face to face with the Prime Minister, "I was just watching, sir."

"Why do you always stand in the shadows?" he asked, gently.

"It's my job," she stated, as if it should have been obvious.

Sebastian plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray and held it out to her, "You are not working tonight, my dear. Enjoy yourself."

**O>**

Pierre held the door open to the small, typical French café for Charlotte to exit. Their trip had turned the two into firm friends, rather than workplace acquaintances. Charlotte now felt comfortable with the man who, just a few days previously, had been someone she curtsied to.

After two days of sightseeing, they had just finished their last drink pit stop before heading back to the hotel to prepare for the all-important dinner. Charlotte would not be attending, as it was for state heads only. However, it was tradition for the wives to hold their own dinner in competition with the men. Clarisse had warned Charlotte that the women, although prim and proper in the public eye, liked to let their hair down in private. They would want to gossip and drink. A lot.

"I'm not your wife," Charlotte reminded him as they strolled down the road.

Pierre laughed, "I have a feeling that that is what they will want to gossip about."

"Oh no," she moaned, running a hand through her hair, starting to slightly panic about the evening to come.

"Wait," Pierre said suddenly, "I think I've been here before."

"What?" she asked, looking around the winding roads.

"Yes, I have," he decided, changing direction, "Father brought Philippe and I here once during a trip to buy a birthday present for mother. If I'm correct, there should be a rather lovely jewellery shop just down this road…" Charlotte had to run slightly to keep up with his excited pace. Eventually they stopped outside a tiny shop with a very sparkly window display.

"Oh my," she breathed, her eyes widening at the sight of the beautiful gems. Pierre watched her face change as her gaze moved over the jewellery, enjoying her reaction to it.

"Let's go in," he suggested.

"Why?"

"Just to have a look." She looked at him dubiously, but he extended his arm to her and led her inside. A small, scurrying man shuffled out from behind a desk to greet his new customers. He began to speak quickly in French, which baffled Charlotte enormously, but Pierre clearly understood and replied fluently. After a few moments conversation, the man turned to Charlotte, inspecting her for a few moments, before taking her hand from Pierre's arm and leading her towards a chair and a table.

"What's going on?" she asked, when she and Pierre were left alone.

"I want to buy you something. Anything you want."

"Pierre, no, I can't let you do that," she gasped, standing up.

He took her shoulders, gently sitting her down again, "Charlotte, let me buy you a present."

"We have to get back to the hotel," she insisted.

"We have plenty of time. Relax. Enjoy yourself."


	5. Connecting and Reconnecting

**Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really hope everyone continues to enjoy this. I think that the beginning is better than the rest of the story, but we'll see what you guys make of it. Enjoy!**

The whole room watched as Joseph and Clarisse shared the first dance of the evening. They both looked blissfully happy, with eyes for no-one but each other. On one side of the room, Mia snuggled up to Nicholas, grinning, happy for her grandparents as well as her own situation. With her own wedding looming, she had much to smile about.

That was Charlotte's next job. The royal wedding. The last one had been organised in somewhat of a hurry and everyone involved was determined to take their time with this one, making it a perfect day for the young couple.

Still, even with the limited deadline that had been imposed on her, Charlotte was pleased with the way the evenings proceedings were going. Everyone looked to be having a good time and the room was beautifully decorated, with an abundance of fresh flowers, as per Queen Clarisse's request.

Mia and Nicholas joined the older couple on the dance floor, followed by Sebastian Motaz and his wife, then many others. Those who did not move to dance went back to their conversations, the main evening's formalities now over with. Charlotte breathed a small sigh of relief. Nothing much could go wrong now. Nothing that could possibly have been predicted, anyway.

She moved from her position by one of the staircases to walk slowly round the room. She knew almost everyone present, but only in a professional capacity, and those she knew personally were engrossed in the dancing. A few guests, mainly wives, shot smiles her way, but she continued to walk, determined to enjoy the evening off in her own way.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, as she felt herself connect with another body.

"No, it was my fault," a voice replied. Her head was in the process of rising to fully apologise to the person she had hit, but she froze when she heard the voice. For a few seconds she tried to convince herself that she had made a mistake, but as she carefully lifted her head, her face paled.

"Pierre?" she stuttered, the word almost catching in her throat.

**O>**

The room at the luxury hotel the pair were staying at consisted of two en-suite bedrooms, joined by a communal living area in the middle. All the decoration was plush and extravagant, but remained surprisingly classy. The beds in each room were four-poster and the bathrooms were all marble. Charlotte, who had lived in the palace and stayed at many hotels in her time, had never seen anything so grand.

Pierre slid his jacket on over his shoulders and did up the many buttons. It was his formal army jacket, which was his usual attire for such important occasions, proud of his military background and achievements. With a final glance in the mirror to check his hair was not yet out of place, he headed into the living area to await Charlotte, whom he would accompany to the ladies dinner before heading off to join the men. It had occurred to him that it seemed rather an archaic tradition that the men dined separately to the women, but Charlotte had quickly reminded him that women found it much easier to share secrets and tales when the men were not around.

He was thoroughly engrossed in a book when he heard the door to Charlotte's room open slowly. He felt, rather than heard, himself gasp as she appeared in the doorway. She smiled shyly when she saw him struggling to get his words out.

"Will I do?" she asked, moving further into the room.

"You look incredible," he told her, even his normally shy nature unable to quash the compliment to a more reserved level, "But you're missing something."

"I couldn't do the necklace up, the catch is too fiddly," she admitted, before hesitantly asking, "Could you help?"

He closed his book without bothering to mark his page and stood, taking the necklace from her outstretched hand. Her hair was pulled up into a bun on her head, so fastening the jewellery took only a few seconds, but he felt his hands linger on her shoulders longer than necessary.

Charlotte felt an unexpected shiver run up her spine as his hands landed on her shoulders. She couldn't understand why the simple touch had such an effect on her, but she knew she liked it.

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes cast downwards, terrified that if he were to look into them, he would see the nervousness that lay there. His hands left her shoulders and found her forearms, holding them so lightly she almost didn't notice. He tiled her face gently upwards and their eyes met.

The desire in Pierre's eyes faltered for a second, overcome by nerves and doubts, and that was enough to bring them both back to their senses. They broke apart, neither sure how to act or what to say. By the nature of their respective jobs, however, they were both required to know how to hide their emotions and discomfort when necessary.

"We'd better go to dinner," Pierre announced, holding out his arm to her.

"Yes, we don't want to keep everyone waiting."


	6. Mixed Emotions

**Note: Here we go with a nice long bit. Enjoy!**

"Charlotte," he croaked back, clearly not having recognised her until that point either.

"I…You're here."

"I happened to call mother yesterday and she told me about tonight," he explained, his eyes searching hers.

Charlotte nodded, "I didn't expect you to be here."

"Something you didn't know about one of these things? That's not like you," he joked, trying to ease the tension.

"How would you know? You've barely seen me in the last eleven years," she said, uncharacteristically scathing.

Pierre, although slightly taken aback by her comment, sighed, "Yes, I deserved that." They stood awkwardly for a few moments, trying to decide what to say next.

"You're wearing the jewellery from Paris," he noticed.

"I've got to go," she announced, not wishing to continue the awkward conversation and sidestepping around him.

"Charlotte," he called, reaching out for her arm, "Dance with me."

She stared at him, rooted to the spot with fear and shock. When he touched her she had felt the same tingle she had felt that night in Paris all those years ago. The same feeling she had got every time he had touched her since then. She had believed that after all these years he could not possibly still have the same effect on her.

"You're a priest," she spat, when she recovered.

"Church of England. I can still dance."

"I don't think it's a good idea," she told hold, struggling to be released from his hold.

His hand tightened on her arm, "Please, Charlotte, so that we can talk."

"Pierre, I said no," she snapped, yanking her arm away. She was aware that her voice had been raised during her last words, and a few nearby people were looking at the couple curiously, so she lowered her tone. "I don't want to talk to you. I just want you to leave me alone."

Pierre watched her leave, practically running across the room and out of a door, his heart longing to follow her, hold her close and make it all better. But his head knew that was not possible. He had hurt her long ago and it was now far too late to take back that time.

The glimpse of Charlotte fleeing the ballroom had been enough to concern Clarisse. Looking to where the other woman was running from, she noticed her eldest son Pierre was also watching her leave. Clarisse smiled politely and excused herself from her current conversation, heading out the same way Charlotte had done.

**O>**

"Another successful evening, Charlotte," Clarisse commented, approaching where the younger woman stood by the staircase, after the last guests had gone.

"Yes, your majesty," she replied, politely.

"I can't believe my little Philippe is thirty years old already."

"No, me neither. I can't believe his twenty-fifth was five years ago."

The queen inspected her briefly, "How old are you, Charlotte, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm twenty-seven, your majesty. Twenty-eight in July."

Clarisse nodded, "Well, I think I will retire now. Goodnight, Charlotte."

"Goodnight, your majesty." The queen headed away, a ladies maid scurrying behind her, leaving Charlotte alone. She surveyed the room, nearly empty now, only a few members of staff remaining to move food and drink. The majority of the tidying would be done in the morning.

"Would you like me to walk you to your room?" a voice asked.

She hadn't noticed Pierre enter though the large French doors, "I thought you had already left."

"I was walking in the garden," he told her as they turned and began the short trip to Charlotte's room.

"Did you enjoy the evening?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"Not as much as my brother seems to have done," he joked.

"Your brother is very good at enjoying himself, sir," she agreed.

"Charlotte, why have we reverted back to 'sir'? I thought we were friends," he said as they stopped outside her door.

"You are still the Crown Prince of Genovia," she reminded him, opening her door.

She didn't miss his hurt expression, "Is that really how you see me?"

Charlotte sighed, entering the room, "Its how I have to see you." He followed her in, watching as she went straight out onto the balcony. She felt his presence as he stood in the doorway behind her. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not very good at this. I never have been. Women have always confused me," he admitted, quietly.

She smiled slightly, glad he couldn't see her amusement because she still had her back to him, "I'm not as confusing as you might expect." She gasped as she felt his hand on her arm and the familiar tingle down her spine again.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he told her, gently turning her round to face him, "I spend all my time hoping to see you, hoping to run into you."

"Pierre, don't. Please don't do this," she pleaded, trying to move back away from him, but finding herself already pressed up against the wall.

"Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll walk away. I'll never mention it again," his eyes searched hers for her reaction.

Her mind wrestled with her heart, but she pushed him away, walking across to the other side of the small area, wiping some tears away with the back of her hand.

"You are the Crown Prince of Genovia, I am nobody. Our lives are worlds apart. This, us, it would never work," she explained.

"You are not nobody, Charlotte, you practically run this country! Nothing would work if you weren't here. Besides, I don't care who you are or what you do. This is not the middle-ages; I can marry whoever I choose."

"Then how come we've known each other for over five years and this is the first time you've said anything? You know people wouldn't approve."

"That's not the reason," he shouted, before softening his voice, "I could never be ashamed of you."

"Why do you want me, Pierre?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't understand."

"Because you're incredible," he told her, his eyes screaming with honesty. She stepped forward and closed the gap between them, taking his face in her hands. She hesitated before their lips met, so he finished, initiating a deep kiss.

"When it's just us," she murmured against his lips, "We're just ourselves, okay?"

"Anything you say."

"Pierre?"


	7. All Knowing

"Charlotte?"

The assistant was startled by the voice, not just because she had thought she was alone, but also because of whom it belonged to.

"Your majesty? Is something wrong?" she asked, turning round to face the other woman.

Clarisse moved to join the younger woman by the far wall of the balcony, "That's what I was going to ask you. I saw you leave the party in a bit of a hurry."

"I'm sorry, I'm fine. You should be enjoying your party."

"I can't if I know you're not enjoying it too. Won't you tell me what has upset you?" Clarisse had expected to find Charlotte crying or at least tearful, but in fact she seemed to show no emotion at all. She was clearly upset, but that was only evident by the absence of her usual bright smile.

She shook her head, "No, I can't."

The queen looked down, "Is it something to do with Pierre?" She looked back up for a reaction and saw that Charlotte's eyes had widened with shock. "I'm sorry; I should have told you he was coming. I know it's hard for you."

"Why do you think it's hard for me?" Charlotte asked, trying her best to hide her surprise, hoping the queen hadn't noticed, but knowing that she had.

"I may be the queen and I may be considered somewhat aloof, but you're like a daughter to me, Charlotte. I always wanted a daughter and I hope, had I been blessed with one, she would have been just like you," Clarisse began, in an unusually raw moment, "I knew about you and Pierre all those years ago. I saw the look in his eyes when you fell into his lap at Philippe's twenty-fifth and the way you got on after your trip to Paris. Then I saw you, on this very balcony, the night of Philippe's thirtieth." Clarisse's speech tipped Charlotte over the edge and she was overcome with tears. All the years of bottled up emotions came tumbling out, causing her legs to give way beneath her. Clarisse caught her before she hit the ground, guiding her inside to a sofa where she held her until the sobbing subsided.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Charlotte hiccupped eventually.

Clarisse sighed, "I wanted to. Problem was I also knew he wanted to refuse the throne and be a priest. So many times I wanted to clunk your heads together to make you come to your senses, but I couldn't. I trusted Pierre to do the right thing by you, by his country, for himself. I thought maybe if I told you what I knew, I'd lose you both."

"How?"

"Pierre would never forgive me for interfering and I really did trust him. I wanted him to be happy, no matter what that meant. And you, of course."

Charlotte nodded, "We were both grown-ups. We knew what we were doing."

"I think he always prayed you would still want him when he finished his training, but he didn't want to expect anything. It would have been a big thing to ask of you, to wait. He decided to make a clean break. You do know that leaving you was the hardest thing he ever had to do? Harder, even, than deciding not to become king."

"Losing him was…" she stopped, shaking her head, "One more thing to add to the list."

"List?"

"My mum, my dad…Luke," she listed, quietly, almost to herself.

"Luke?"

Charlotte snapped back to reality, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks, "Oh, nothing. Shouldn't you be getting back to Joseph?"

"Joseph can cope without me. I want to make sure you are okay."

"I promise you, I'm fine. Usually, I know he's going to be around and I avoid him. Seeing him so suddenly like that was just a bit of a shock. It brought back a lot of memories."

**O>**

Charlotte carefully picked her way through the leaves and twigs that were scattered over the ground, wishing she had picked more practical shoes to wear. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted off of the ground. She screamed with laughter as a pair of strong arms held her close and their owner began running.

"My lady," Pierre said, finally setting her down on a blanket. She kept her arms round his neck, pulling him down towards her for a kiss. He broke away lying down next to her.

"This is nice," she said, resting on her elbows and surveying the area. They were next to the river under a weeping willow tree, which obscured them completely all round, apart from the small separation which allowed a view of the water. It looked like it had been specially designed as a hideaway.

"I come down here a lot. It's so peaceful and nobody ever disturbs me," he told her.

"But now you've told me about it," she said, turning to lean on one elbow, facing him, "I might come and disturb you."

"My darling," he began, wiping a strand of hair away from her face, "You can disturb me anytime you like."

"I'll hold you to that," she promised, resting her head on his chest. They lay together in comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying the moment.

"Charlotte?" he said after a while.

"Mmm," she replied sleepily.

"There's something I've been wondering for a while, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"What is it?" she asked, lifting her head back up. He rolled over onto his side so that they were at the same level.

"When we were in Paris, you said that you used to visit with your dad, but that you stopped going. Why?" She sighed and lay flat on her back, running a hand over her face. "If it's too painful…"

"He died," she whispered, cutting him off. She looked over at him before continuing, "Because my mum wasn't around, my dad and I were really close. He was my best friend and the best dad in the world. We didn't have very much of anything, but we had each other and that was enough. He met my mum in Paris when they were students and he said going back helped him feel close to her. He wanted me to feel close to her too."

"Did you?" he asked when she stopped.

She shrugged, "I love her for the person I know she was, but I never knew her." She reflected on this for a while. Pierre did not push, letting her start again when she felt ready. "Anyway, when I was fourteen he was diagnosed with cancer. There was no-one else, so I nursed him for two years. Not that I resented it or anything, he was my dad, I would have done anything for him. Before we went there, the last time I had been to Paris was two weeks before he died. He wanted to go back one final time."

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea," he said, gently.

She forced a small smile, "No, it's fine. It's the kind of thing you ought to know. And it was a long time ago now. I think it's why I've never been very good at making friends though. I missed out on having friends as a teenager, you know, first dedicating so much time to my dad and then having to work so hard to catch up at school and college. The hard work was worth it though. I ended up here."

"Where you met a kind and handsome prince who swept you off your feet," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, but unfortunately he had to go and I ended up with you," she grinned. Her father's death had hit her hard and she still missed him, but life went on and Pierre made her particular life very happy.

"I love you, Charlotte," Pierre said suddenly, causing her to turn her attention back to him.

She stroked his cheek and leaned upwards to catch his lips in a brief kiss, her grin widening, "I love you too."


	8. Jump or Push?

"Pierre, darling, can I have a word?" Clarisse had re-entered the ballroom and headed straight over to her son, who had been standing talking to the prime minister.

"Of course, mother," he told her, excusing himself from his conversation and following his mother over to a quiet corner of the room, "What's wrong?"

"I've just spoken to Charlotte."

"Oh," he exhaled, "So she told you?"

Clarisse shook her head, "No. She didn't need to. I already knew."

"You did?"

"Of course I did. I'm your mother," she explained, "Now, don't you think you two should sit down and talk this through."

"She doesn't want anything to do with me, I've already tried."

"Try harder," she suggested, "Look, after you left she was a mess. She was very good at covering it up from most people, of course, but I could see how she felt. Actually, I was quite relived when she went to look after her father for a few months; it gave her time away to get herself together. She was much better when she came back."

"She went to look after her father? She can't have done, he died when she was sixteen," Pierre told his mother, confused.

"Well that's what she told me."

**O>**

"Shades, I want a car ready for Prince Pierre ready to go in one hour. Make sure it's fully fuelled up," Joseph said into his headset, as he rushed down the corridor.

Charlotte stopped as he blew past her, "Joseph, where is the prince going? He has appointments this afternoon."

"Not any more he doesn't," Joseph told her, barely slowing, "All appointments are cancelled for good. The prince has abdicated."

The clipboard clattered noisily to the hard ground, but she barely noticed as her legs began to carry her as fast as possible to Pierre's room. Her mind was whirring with confusion, praying that Joseph had made a mistake. She was aware of the strange looks she was getting from the rest of the staff, surprised to see the normally quiet, reserved woman tearing through the hallways, but she paid no attention to them. The only thought on her mind was getting to Pierre.

"Tell me it's not true," she begged, as two guards closed his suite doors behind her. He turned from where he was packing clothes into a suitcase on the floor of the living area.

"I wish I could," he said, quietly.

She felt her heart break, "You're leaving?"

"I was going to come and tell you," he defended, moving to embrace her.

"You were just going to announce that you're leaving and expect that to be okay?" she spat, shaking free of him, "I thought you loved me."

"I did, I do, I love you more than anything else in the world," he told her.

"Then why are you leaving me?"

He collapsed down into one of the armchairs, "Because I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"This prince thing. I hate it. I hate all the expectations and the pressure. It's not me," he admitted, before whispering, "I want to join the church."

"The church?" she gasped, glad to have the sofa behind her to fall back on.

"I've been thinking about it for years now, long before I even met you. You made me question myself, made me ask if I really wanted to leave, but I have to."

"So you're just going to leave? Just like that?" she questioned, anger creeping back into her voice.

"I don't have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice. There's always a choice!" she insisted.

"So you'd rather I stayed here and was miserable for the rest of my life just so that I can be with you?" he snapped. He covered his mouth in shock when he realised what he had just said. "Charlotte, I…"

She stood from her seat, her angry glare now replaced with a steely lack of emotion, "Go away, Pierre. I'm sorry I've made your life so complicated. I hope you're very happy in your new profession." She walked quickly out of the room, her head held high, assuming her most composed posture.

Pierre held his head in his hands for some time, before sucking in a deep breath and heading over to his writing desk. He had no choice but to leave, but maybe he could explain to Charlotte why that was.

The king and queen were saying their goodbyes to Pierre, so Charlotte entered the head offices by herself, determined to keep working, to not show her emotions. After setting down the papers for the afternoons meetings, she noticed an envelope on her desk which read simply, 'Charlotte'. She knew the writing instantly and for a moment she considered throwing it straight into the bin, but instead she grabbed it up off of the desk and headed out into the gardens. She found the tree by the river where she and Pierre had spent many a beautiful afternoon, away from the gaze of the palace, keeping their secret relationship secret.


	9. The Letter

_My darling Charlotte,_

_I hope you read this and don't just throw it away, although you have every right to after the despicable way I have treated you. However, I hope that after reading this you will at least understand why I made the decisions I made, even if you can't forgive me for them._

_Ever since I was born, I was been told by everyone around me that one day I would be king. That I was going to rule the wonderful country that is Genovia. Unfortunately, from a very young age I realised that that was just about my worst nightmare. I love Genovia, my family and my life, but I do not want to be king. I never did. I also realised that my true calling lay with the church. I never said anything, of course, knowing that the time must be right before I announced my intentions. _

_Then I met you and you turned my life upside down. From the moment we met I have been in love with you. The first night we were together, you asked me why I hadn't said anything sooner. It was not because I was ashamed by you or our relationship, it was because I still had every intention of leaving the palace. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, so I kept my feelings to hidden for all those years so that when I finally left, I would not have to leave you behind. _

_But that night I could no longer hide the way I felt about you and so II convinced myself that I could stay on, that I could become king. And for the three wonderful months we were together I told myself that I would be able to do it. You must believe me when I say that the time we spent together, was the happiest time of my life._

_However, my father called me to his office today and started talking about me taking on more responsibility and arrangements in case anything terrible were to happen to him. Suddenly, I knew I could not pretend for ever and I had to tell him how I felt. He wanted me gone and I felt that the sooner I left, the sooner you could get on with the rest of your life._

_The ring I enclose is the ring with which I intended to propose to you. I bought it in Paris to match the rest of the set (I went to get it early in the morning while you were still asleep, in case you were wondering).I know it means nothing now, but I still want you to have it. _

_I think it will take my father a long time to forgive me, so do not worry about us meeting by chance. _

_Everything I ever told you about my feelings for you was the absolute truth. I love you and, had things been different, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Please don't look back on our relationship with sadness or anger. It was truly special._

_All my love,_

_Pierre_


	10. The Real Secret

"It's been too long, Pierre," she said, fiddling with the ring between her fingers.

"How did you know I was here?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. Maybe I'm psychic."

"That's impressive," he commented, as he walked slowly to where she still sat on the sofa.

"Yeah, if it wasn't for the huge, great mirror you're reflected in," she told him, a smile forming on her lips.

"Ah, not quite so impressive then," he corrected himself, sitting down next to her, "Is it still anger you feel for me?"

She looked up at him, "I'm not sure I was ever really angry with you, not for any serious length of time. I was hurt. I loved you so much, when you said you were leaving it felt like someone was ripping my insides out."

"Do you think it was any easier for me to walk away from you? I was doing the best I could for everyone involved."

"I know," she admitted, "I know how tough the decision must have been for you. Not just because of me, but because you were leaving behind everything you'd ever known."

"Can we…start again? Just, get to know each other again," he asked, hesitantly.

"No," she replied, "Not yet. There's something you need to know."

**O>**

"Hello, Luke."

She didn't know if she was crying or not, her whole body was numb. This was the moment she had been dreading for the last five months, since the day she found out about the baby she was carrying.

It had been as she was recovering from the despair over Pierre's departure that she had discovered her pregnancy. At first she put the symptoms down to the lack of food and exhaustion, but when she finally thought it through, her world toppled once again. A baby with a man she loved was something she had always wanted, but now she was alone and scared, a situation she hated being in.

The doctor confirmed her suspicions and explained her options, gently suggesting a termination given her horror at the news of the imminent child, but she had refused. The baby had been conceived in love, no matter what had happened since, and the thought of killing it, of killing off the last link to Pierre she had, was still too much to bear.

Already four months gone, she had waited a further month, until her bump was almost noticeable, to ask the king for six months leave to look after her father, stating that he had had a nasty fall and needed help until he was back on his feet. The king, who was always kind and fair, except, of course, when it came to his sons, allowed her the time, wishing her father a speedy recovery.

And in fact she wasn't lying completely. She returned to her father's house in the countryside, far away from Pyrus, which she had been renting out for many years, ever since moving to the palace. Luckily, the last tenants had just left, so there she spent the remainder of her pregnancy.

It was the house she had grown up in, the small town she had always loved, and she was happy there. Many residents remembered her and her father and she found herself once again a member of a community.

"I'm so sorry that I have to do this, baby, but I don't have a choice. I'm going to give you to lovely people who are going to look after you and then some more people are going to come and they're going to take you home to be their little boy," she explained as if the child could understand.

A woman entered the hospital room quietly and walked over to the bed, "Are you ready?"

Charlotte looked between the woman and the baby, "No."


	11. Like a Glove

**Note: Okay, last chapter. Hope you have enjoyed the story. Criticisms and ideas greatly appreciated as they will be used in the sequel (cos I can never just leave a story as it is). Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!**

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Hey, let's just remember who left who here."

"So you were punishing me for leaving you? You thought you'd get your revenge by not telling me I'm a father?" he shouted, pacing across the room.

"How dare you? How dare you accuse me of being that deceitful? Giving up our child was the hardest thing I have ever done."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Would you have come back if you had known? Would it have changed your mind?"

He slowed his walking gradually until he stopped, covering his face with his hands, "I don't know."

She went over to where he stood, taking his hands in hers, "The only thing in my life, once you went, was my job. If I had a baby, I wouldn't be able to do my job anymore. And I would have to leave the palace. No job, nowhere to live, no money. That's no way to raise a child."

"If you had told me, I would have made sure you were taken care of."

She cocked an eyebrow, "How romantic."

"This isn't about romance, Charlotte."

"I wanted our baby, that's why I didn't have an abortion, but it just wasn't possible."

"I would have wanted it too," he said, quietly.

"I know," she admitted, "but I didn't know what else to do."

He sighed and pulled her into a hug, "What a mess." She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, enjoying the feel of his arms around her once again.

"Do you still want to start again, knowing what you know now?"

"We both made our mistakes. We'll take it really slowly. One step at a time," he stroked her hair gently, deep in thought, "Do you know if he was ever adopted?"

"Luke?" she asked, pushing away from him slightly so she could look up at him, "I don't know. He went into foster case until they found a family for him. I always just assumed that they would."

"Can we find out? I mean, if we're back on track and he hasn't been adopted, maybe he could, I don't know, come back to us."

"Pierre, one step at a time, remember?" she reminded him, "Let's sort us out before we go looking for Luke."

He smiled, "Eleven years and all we had to do was talk?"

"No, we needed to heal and to grow up. We know who we are now and we know what we really want."

"Do you want to go back to the party?"

"Yes, I do, but I just need to fix my make-up," she told him, dashing away to the bathroom. Pierre looked slowly around the room. He was saddened by the severe lack of photographs and hoped to rectify that. His eyes lighted on an object on the coffee table and he smiled, heading over to pick it up. He examined the object carefully, turning it round and round in his fingers.

"I only ever put it on once," she told him, knocking him out of his thoughts.

He moved to stand in front of her, "Did it fit?"

She held out her hand for him to slide the ring onto her finger, "Like a glove."


End file.
